The Silence of Medair (16 page)

"At first, we believed we could stop it.  Spells of nullification, containment, cancellation.  We plumbed the depths of our knowledge, and it was not enough.  The Blight transmuted every container, even those constructed of raw force, and it fed on everything we tried to use to neutralise it.  Soon, Myridar was a bay, a bite gnawed out of the north.  Every animal, bird, and insect of the region had fled south and the Myridans with them, and we turned to solutions born of desperation.

"Sar-Ibis is – was – a long, narrow island, at one point only half a day's journey across.  We resolved that this would be the place to stop the Blight.  The entire north was evacuated: cities, towns, the cottages of wood-cutters.  Even those places which would not be reached by the Blight for weeks were emptied, taken south.

"Then, gathering together all the
lok-shi
able to contribute to the casting, we shattered Sar-Ibis, sheared off a third of our island and cast it, and the Blight, into the sea."

The Ibisian woman had paused then, taken a deep breath and looked down.  Her face remained expressionless, but for the first time the effort in the telling of her tale had been palpable.  It had been the only time, in the months that Kerikath las Dona had taught her, that Medair had been certain her teacher felt the horror and sorrow that such disaster should inspire.  And, after a moment, that loss of control had been mastered and she'd gone on.

"We could feel the power of it still, somewhat muffled.  We believed the Blight to be eating away the remnant of the north beneath the water, and kept close watch while we organised those who had been displaced.  The breaking of Sar-Ibis had roused the earth, and it trembled constantly.  We had known that we would suffer for our deed, and did what little we could to soothe the land, thinking the worst was over.  Then Tenrathlar, one of our most beautiful cities, fell into the sea.

"Forty thousand people, gone in the blink of an eye.  And Tenrathlar was in what had been the most stable region.  We could feel the power of the Blight expand, though it was no longer visible to us, and realised our peril.  Wild magic now ate away the foundations of Sar-Ibis.  The breaking of Sar-Ibis, that unspeakable sacrifice, had made matters worse.  Those who knew well the land's humours made their judgment.  Even if we could eradicate the Blight that very moment, Sar-Ibis was beyond saving.  We must leave or fall with it into the waves.

"Even with the enhancement of every rahlstone in the
kiereddas
, a gate such as we used would not ordinarily be within our power.  Not one we could hold open long enough for every Ibis-lar to travel through.  But with wild magic loose, our reserves replenished almost as quickly as we could cast, so it was possible, though a massive undertaking.

"What we have brought with us is far outweighed by what was impossible to shift, what we could not reach, and what was forgotten.  And there was a difficulty which overwhelmed all other considerations: the Blight.  If it had spread to the foundations of our island, it could travel across the ocean floor.  If it travelled beneath the ocean, then there would be no point in fleeing to another land only to watch it also be consumed."

"Is Farakkan in danger?" Kedy had asked immediately, as was his duty.  The Kerikath had shaken her head.

"No.  The Kierash-that-was made a final attempt to stop the Blight.  A desperate gamble.  Even as the last few thousands were hurrying through the gates, he went to Desana, a mountain rapidly becoming an island, and attempted a great conjuration.  He drew all that was power to himself."  Selai had looked down.  "Such a thing would kill any mage, and we could see the pyre of his destruction even as we struggled to maintain gates which were no longer fuelled by wild magic.  He succeeded.  The last few of us, escaping through gates originating from this land, witnessed the final wreck of Sar-Ibis, and there was nothing of wild magic in that devastation, only the trembling of rootless earth."

Medair had felt impossibly sorry for the Ibisians, as their new teacher had finished her tale.  Then they had been summoned back to the throne room, and Kier Ieskar had declared war.  It was little comfort for Medair to reflect that black denans had not survived.  That they, unlike the Ibis-lar, had not taken root in Farak's breast.

Chapter Ten

A fort on a hostile border would always be a place of precautions and watches, but the current situation called for more.  Avahn, taking Medair about Finrathlar's valley, trailed her past numerous drills of militia.  Preparations for war.  She had thought their entry into the city had gone unremarked, but watching other travellers challenged made her realise that Cor-Ibis' party had been recognised and allowed through unhindered.  He was, after all, its Lord.

Everyone Avahn met asked after Cor-Ibis' health, for the adept had finally given into dramatic necessity and developed a fever.  Although only mild, it had kept him to his rooms for the past five days and convinced all Finrathlar he was at death's door.  Avahn obviously relished the poorly concealed dismay of the Finrathe dignitaries who came to pay their respects to him as Cor-Ibis' proxy.  His appointment as the Keridahl's heir was truly not popular, and with rumours about his cousin's health running riot many were finally considering the prospect of Keridahl Avahn las Cor-Ibis seriously.

Avahn made sure they went away with their preconceptions confirmed.  His pose of feckless disinterest in anything resembling a solemn issue by turns infuriated and shocked them, though none ventured to criticise him to his face.

"Did you grow up here?" Medair asked, as he took her out of the city to show her some of the look-out points among the circling hills.  The way he talked about Finrathlar revealed a deep-seated affection for the place.

"As good as," Avahn replied.  "Yearly visits when I was very young, and after Amaret we were practically shackled to my esteemed cousin."

"We?"

"Oh, all the potential heirs.  Our doting parents weren't about to risk another twig of the great family gaining prominence in Cor-Ibis' eyes.  Excuses were found for all of us to spend much of the year thrusting ourselves in his way.  My parents took a house..."  He stopped, turned in the saddle and indicated an area of Finrathlar a short distance from The Avenue.  "We wintered here, dined with him as often as permitted."  Avahn's mouth compressed, then he shrugged.  "There isn't a place like Finrathlar anywhere else in the world," he continued, stroking his gelding's neck.  "Maybe it's the size, or the Cor-Ibis presence, as folk say.  Whatever the cause, Finrathlar's clean and beautiful and safe, with adventure just beyond the hills.  Probably it is just that I did, as you say, grow up here, but despite being a fortress on a border, this is still the most peaceful place I know.  This is Sar-Ibis, remade."

Medair considered him: precisely dressed, handsome.  A White Snake who loved a Palladium made to resemble Sar-Ibis.  "When did you decide to stop competing?"

Avahn flashed her a sharp, amused look.  "You've been talking to Ileaha.  Be assured that my true nature was revealed early.  Surreive was always thought to hold his favour.  The jewel of the family, truly the ideal heir."

Smiling, he took her up to the crest of the hill to show her the walls which stretched around the outer slopes of the valley.  It had always been a very defensible area, but the Ibisians had reinforced the natural features to make it near-impregnable.  Avahn pointed out a squat barracks building incorporated into the wall.

"I won't say it's impossible to get a force into Finrathlar without the entire valley rushing to the defence, but an invader would need to know a few well-guarded secrets to manage to take us by surprise."

Nodding, Medair glanced back across the valley to where the Imperial base had been.  Damp and unpleasant, but a haven when those bandits had made such pests of themselves.  Belatedly, she noticed Avahn's stillness.  He was staring at her with wide, disbelieving eyes, swiftly veiled when she turned.  The base could only be one of those well-guarded secrets and now he was suspicious and alert.  She had hoped this ride would allow her to gently pursue such interesting topics as "the Hold" and "the purists", and she'd just made the task doubly difficult.

Cursing herself, Medair ignored his sudden withdrawal as if she had no comprehension of what she or he may well have revealed.  "'After Amaret'," she repeated, blandly.  "What was Amaret?  Some sort of battle?"

He laughed, startled, and shook his head.  The smile returned to his lips, but the watchfulness did not leave his eyes.  "It's sometimes difficult to remember that you claim only the vaguest knowledge of society.  Keris Amaret was Cor-Ibis' wife."

So Medair had guessed.  "She died then?  I don't understand why he would need to take an heir from his cousins.  Did he swear undying loyalty to her memory or something?"

"Not many people would be able to say that with a straight face, unless they truly were ignorant of the truth.  No, Keris Amaret left him, and he certainly didn't regret her going.  I was young when they wed and don't know if they ever even liked each other.  It was only a
sha-leon
marriage after all.  A political alliance.  But the end was enough to put anyone off marriage in general."

"I must be misremembering what I know of Ibisian society.  I thought marriage was no more required for the getting of heirs than it is in any other land."

Avahn shrugged and nudged his gelding to a few slow steps.  "What do you know of the previous Keridahl Cor-Ibis?" he asked.

"She was this one's mother," Medair replied, promptly.

He waited until it was obvious that she wasn't going to continue, then looked as if he suspected she was being deliberately obtuse.  "Very well.  Yes, Keridahl Galen was my esteemed cousin's mother.  She was Keridahl Alar, Regent when the Kier was too young to rule, an adept of such strength that only her son is known to have surpassed her.  'Galen Never-Wrong'.  That was meant to be an insult, but as my father says, it was too close to true to sting.  A frightening reputation, a formidable woman.  I remember the first time we came to The Avenue, just before the Kier was crowned.  My parents had lectured me for days about how to behave, how to not offend.  I was eight and terrified and when I saw her she was this quiet, rather plain woman and she had the rarest, most lovely smile.  She could charm the birds from the trees just by listening to them, and she saw nothing unusual in spending her afternoon indulging a child's desire to be introduced to every beast in her stable.  By the end of the day I had asked her if she could be my mother."  He met Medair's eyes and shrugged.  "My own mother hates horses.  Keridahl Galen seemed like perfection to me.  I envied my esteemed cousin her above all else."

Avahn stopped speaking, and sent his gelding into a trot.  Medair matched him easily, waiting until he had slowed.

"So you didn't want to admire him, didn't want to perform to win his approval, but you couldn't help yourself at times."

His eyes narrowed and he deliberately looked her up and down, an expressionless blonde woman on a chestnut horse, who knew Finrathlar's secrets when she should not.  But then he smiled, regaining at least the appearance of a light heart.  "You remind me of Cor-Ibis, actually, but you're more talkative.  Now what was it I was saying?  Ah, yes.  My cousin and his need for heirs.  He married Keris Amaret when he was only twenty, at his mother's recommendation.  Even after Kierash Inelkar contracted a child with Kerikath las Reive, many thought that Keridahl Cor-Ibis would arrange things between her son and the Kierash, that there would be a final rejoining of the lines after all these centuries.  But they were wrong, as usual, when it came to dealing with her.  A marriage, even
sha-leon
, put an end to any speculation that Kerin Illukar would marry Kierash Inelkar."

Avahn hesitated.  "When it was announced, it was thought confirmation that Keridahl Galen objected to the Farak-lar strain of blood in the Saral-Ibis line.  The purists make a great deal of it still."

Somehow, Medair didn't have it in her to be pleased that Cor-Ibis' mother had been as arrogantly superior as any other White Snake.  "Are they right to do so?"

"I don't know.  It can't be escaped that the Kier's blood, the entire Saral-Ibis line, is not pure.  The Cor-Ibis line is loyal to a fault, and I've heard no suggestion that Keridahl Galen dealt with pure-blood differently from Farak-lar or those who are both.  Yet no Keridahl Cor-Ibis has ever mixed blood with Farak-lar.  Keridahl Galen chose a pure-blood to father her son and a pure-blood to marry that son.  Of course the purists think it significant."

This was more complex than Medair had realised.  "Does anyone actually admit to being a purist?"

"Oh, yes."  He looked at her again, and she could see him assessing whether she was offended by the topic.  "There are those who keep their opinions to themselves, but it's not impossible to walk a fine line between expressing a wish to keep the blood cold – even you must know what that means – and failing to point out that the Saral-Ibis line no longer has that purity."

Cold blood.  Nothing to do with temperature or emotion, and everything to do with self-control.  The Ibisian idea of nobility.  "Mixed blood is considered less...disciplined?"

Avahn nodded.  "I don't even know if it's true there's a difference," he said, baldly.  "Mylar – one of my cousins – is the best of men.  Powerful in magic, already adept, never unjust or out of sorts.  I've not once seen him angered, unlike Surreive.  Unlike me.  And his mother is fully Farak-lar – it was a great scandal long ago.  Some of the family will never forgive it."